The Syndicates || "MARVEL: Avengers" || COMPLETED

E I G H T | ' interrogation nation '

The room would not stay still. 

I rested my forehead against the table they'd cuffed me to, exhaling slowly. The cool metal felt like ice against my skin and I took a few moments to compose myself. I appeared to be in an interrogation room, tied down by bulky metal bands around my wrists and ankles that stung uncomfortably. My powers had been numbed by whatever they'd drugged me with, my earpiece had been smashed by my fall, and naturally I'd been stripped of all my weapons. I was wounded and practically defenseless- if not for a lifetime of martial arts training- with no hope of contacting HYDRA unless I got out of this cell. I bit my tongue. Patience had never been my strong-suit.

Soon, the door swung open and Steve Rogers walked inside, a crisp green file in his hands. Someone outside slid the door shut and I heard a bolt clicking firmly into place. So much for that idea.

"Your name is Marionette, isn't it?"

He said, settling down in the chair across from me and dropping his papers on the table. He wasn't carrying any weapons, nothing to attack me or defend himself with other than those...rippling muscles. I cleared my throat.

"You're a HYDRA agent. You were on the Lemurian that night."

Not a question, either. I knit my fingers together, placing them on the table and focusing on a small strand slipping out of the spine of his folder. Bored, I reached out for it but Rogers slid it away, extracting two monochromatic photos of Winter and pushing them towards me instead.

"Can you confirm these photos are of the same man?"

The first had been taken recently on one of the Star's cameras, and the latter a lifetime ago, before HYDRA. Back when he was still Bucky. The different was stark, tragic really. I nodded, watching his reaction. It seemed he had no doubts either.

"And do you know where this man is?"

Rogers' tone was relaxed but his body language emanated tension. He wasn't as comfortable here as he'd like me to think. Not even close.

"You can say Bucky. That's his name, right? He's at a...HYDRA base."

I glanced around the room, trying to hide it by sweeping my fringe to the side. There was one camera, angled towards the door with us in view and of course the one-way glass panel to my left. An escape would rely on me blocking the camera and the mere hope that no one was outside, not to mention taking out George Washington over here. With my wound still aching and my body exhausted, I couldn't move fast enough to risk it. My powers were still refusing to work and my attempts to push myself had only caused a pounding headache thus far. 

Rogers smiled thinly, noticing what I was doing,

"Where, Marionette?"

He pressed, drawing closer, the legs of his chair dragging against the tiles like nails on a chalkboard.

I tutted, "You have to earn that."

"What do you want?"

He said, sounding genuinely curious. I had half a mind to demand Buckingham Palace.

"Protection."

I said, looking him in the eye for the first time. 

He took a second, cocking his head to the right, an unconscious tick maybe, "From who?" 

I exhaled, my eyes drifting to the camera subconsciously, 

"HYDRA." 

I finally said, my mouth dry. Rogers fiddled with his sleeve, tucking the photos back into his folder and closing it before turning his attention back to me. He frowned,